


The Huntress

by DuschaPendragon



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen, Whore training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2018-02-03 10:50:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1742054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DuschaPendragon/pseuds/DuschaPendragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Myranda is known as Ramsay Bolton's favourite bedwarmer as well as his hunting partner, but much of her history is unknown. Where did she come from? And how did she come to be in Ramsay's service?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Huntress

**Author's Note:**

> So I thought I would give The Bolton Girl a break this evening. I had this story in mind for a while so I thought I would just make it a short story as I have several ideas at the moment and I didn't want this one to be too long. I have put it under Game of Thrones TV only as Myranda is not in the books.

Ros hated going into that room. As favourite in the establishment, it fell to her to train the girl. But it seemed she did not want to be trained. Ros paused outside the door to take a deep breath. She held it as she threw the door open. It was dark inside. An eerie cold breeze washed over her, making goose pimples on her skin. The window had been blocked out with planks of wood, only allowing a small shaft of light to peer through. Ros scanned the room, not stepping inside. Despite holding her breath, she could still get a scent of urine, coming from an unemptied chamber pot. The black eyes sparkled in the darkness. They weren’t actually black, merely a dark brown, but in this light they had turned black. On further inspection, Ros spotted some pale arms and legs. The girl’s hair shone from the shaft of light, framing her delicate face. The girl watched her as she stepped into the room. “Come Myranda, it is time to show the master what you can do.” Ros announced, trying not to let the black stare unnerve her. The girl stood up silently, rearranging her skirts a little. She stepped forward, lightly, silently. She wore no shoes. She stopped when she was in front of Ros. Myranda was slight in body and moved lightly without any noise. Ros found that even more unnerving. “Do you remember what we’ve taught you?” Ros asked, tilting her chin up. The girl nodded slightly. “Don’t let us down.” Ros turned on her heal. Myranda followed her out the door.

It was warm outside of the room. The southern sun strained through the red curtains and shutters, making each room turn blood red in colour. Myranda followed the red head through the rooms. She noticed the girl try to check over her shoulder without it being noticed. But Myranda noticed. Myranda noticed everything. She could hear the noises of men and women indulging in each other from the floors below. She could smell Ros’s fear. She loved the fact that they were all afraid of her; they all believed she could speak little and that she didn’t understand what they were saying. She would stare at them until she would see their skin turn cold. Training to be one of them was even more fun. No matter what they tried, with men or women, they couldn’t make her cry out with pleasure. She had not released so much as a whimper. She would simply watch them with her dark eyes. Eventually they would get frustrated and give up and they would explain it all to her again. They didn’t understand. Nobody did. Ros led her to another of the red rooms. A woman waited beside a bath tub. “Get in.” Ros ordered. Myranda did as she was bid, stripping off her soiled silks and stepping into the bath. Her supposed inability to care for herself added to the pretence. She had heard some of them say that they had heard she had been wild since she was a babe; left in the woods for the darkest of reasons, and that she had been brought up by wild creatures such as wolves and shadow cats. She had almost laughed at that tale. Only few new the truth. They scrubbed at her flesh until it turned pink. They washed and combed out the knots in her tangled hair. They spoke to each other as though she were not in the room. “I do hope she does as she has been taught. Lord Baelish will not be happy if she appears to have been taught nothing. He hates bad investments.” Said Ros. Myranda kept her eyes trained on the water’s surface, as though she were far away. “It is not like we haven’t tried. We try everything. Men, women…she responds to none of them.” Said a girl whose name was Carolei, who was combing her hair.  
“Come, she can be dried now. Get out of the bath Myranda.” Ros ordered. Myranda followed the order.  
“Perhaps she was dropped on her head when she was little?” Carolei suggested.  
“Perhaps. But even the simplest people know how to fuck. I’ve had my fair share.” Ros laughed at her own memories as she began to dry Myranda’s hair.

Once she was ready, the two women led the way to another room. The windows were shuttered and covered with the red curtains. At the far end of the room was a small bed. With his back to the door, the owner of the brothel leaned back in his chair leisurely, studying a scroll that was settled on the desk in front of him. “Lord Baelish.” Said Ros, leading the way into the room. Littlefinger did not move from his chair but watched as the three girls came into the room. Ros placed Myranda between herself and Carolei. Littlefinger studied the girl intently. She met his gaze with cold brown eyes. “She’s thin.” He pointed out.  
“She doesn’t eat.” Ros admitted, a little nervously.  
“Well, let’s get on with it then shall we?” It wasn’t really a question. Ros turned Myranda around, placing her hand on the small of her back and pushing her towards the bed. The two girls removed the thin dress, throwing it aside, so Myranda stood naked and looked at Ros with those deep brown eyes, awaiting her next instruction. Ros sighed. This was not going to go well. She had instructed the girl on what to do, and here she was pretending she had no idea. “Get on the bed.” Ros hissed, feeling Littlefinger’s eyes follow her every move. Myranda did as she was told, clambering onto the bed and lacking any kind of attractive elegance or grace in the process. Ros helped Carolei to undress and went to stand beside Littlefinger. Myranda laid on the bed as stiff as a plank of wood, legs clamped together so tightly that Carolei had to wrench them apart to climb in-between them. She started off stroking between Myranda’s legs, each brush getting faster and faster. Then Carolei slipped two fingers between Myranda’s folds, caressing them gently. Myranda remained motionless. She watched the girl intently. Carolei did not meet her gaze, but Myranda noticed goose bumps appear on her skin. Any other well trained whore would be gasping by now, her cunt should have become wet and ready for a man to indulge himself in. Myranda did not make a sound. Her cunt remained dry as a bone. She just stared eerily at Carolei. Carolei looked around at Ros, who only gestured for her to do something. Anything. Carolei moved her face towards Myranda’s. She touched her chin with her tongue, running it down Myranda’s body until she reached the hair between Myranda’s legs. She used her tongue instead of her fingers this time. Littlefinger frowned as, once again, the girl on the bed made no effort to respond to what the other whore was doing to her body. Myranda stared up at the canopy above her, seemingly unaware of Carolei’s tongue between her legs. When she failed to respond to that method, Carolei gave in and shoved two fingers inside her. Yet still there was nothing. She pushed inside of her slowly, gently, rhythmically. _“They have no idea.”_ Thought Myranda. She watched with growing glee as the girl got more and more upset as Myranda watched her. Something in those eyes made Carolei begin to quiver with fear. Myranda’s eyes had turned dark with desire, but it was not a desire for pleasure. The black eyes that stared up at Carolei were those of a predator whose prey was close enough for a kill. Carolei could take no more of it. She threw herself off of Myranda’s body. “Forgive me Lord Baelish…I just…I can’t!” She cried and ran from the room. Myranda sat up slowly, her face was set like stone but there was a hint of evil glee in her eyes. “It seems your training hasn’t paid off.” Littlefinger turned to Ros.  
“Forgive me my lord. We have tried hard with her. But, there is something about her…” She trailed off as Littlefinger stood up and walked over to Myranda. He sat down next to her. “You know how much I hate bad investments. And a whore who isn’t a whore is a very bad investment indeed.” His voice was low and dangerous as he studied Myranda’s face. “How did she come to be in this establishment?” He asked Ros.  
“She was training to be a septa, but they said she had urges that were uncontrollable.” Ros informed.  
“Did they say what kind of urges?” Asked Littlefinger, never taking his eyes off of Myranda.  
“Sexual, I suppose.” Muttered Ros.  
“You suppose? They did not say sexual?” Littlefinger turned to Ros.  
“No my lord, they did not.” Ros admitted. Littlefinger turned back to the whore who wasn’t a whore. “Tell me girl, were you unable to become a Septa due to sexual urges?” Littlefinger’s question was blunt and direct. Myranda looked dead into his eyes and smiled a little. “No, Lord Baelish. They were not of a sexual kind.” Myranda’s voice was sweet as honey, but her words dripped with venom.  
“What kind of urges were they then?” Littlefinger asked. Myranda said nothing. There was no need for it was all written in her eyes. The girl lusted for blood, longed for cruelty and was hot for violence. Littlefinger stood up sharply and turned to Ros. “The girl will find no work here.” He stated and hurried from the room. Ros watched him leave, it was out of character for him to leave without getting what he wanted. Ros turned back to face Myranda who still sat on the bed, watching her with her dark eyes. “I have tried everything I can think of with you girl. I don’t see why you can’t just pretend. I’ve had to, many times. I have had men take me so roughly that my cunt has bled and my legs have been too shaky to walk on.” Ros’s anger seemed not to touch Myranda whose eyes seemed to shine a little brighter. “When? Who?” She asked. Ros had never seen the girl so animated before. “When I worked in the North, just before I left for Kings Landing. Robb Stark called his banner men. It was a very busy time with so many men around. But the worst came from the men that marched beneath the flayed man of House Bolton. They treated whores like you wouldn’t believe. Have you never heard of the Bastard of Bolton?” Ros asked, moving a little closer to tell the tale. Myranda shook her head and leaned forward a little. “They say he hunts his whores for sport once he is bored of them, and feeds them to his dogs while they are still breathing. If the whore gives him a good enough chase, he names one of his bitches after them.” Ros was shocked to see Myranda gasp with delight at the tale.  
“And, where is this Bastard of Bolton?” She asked eagerly.  
“He is Lord of the Dreadfort whilst his father marches with Robb Stark, I expect that’s where he’ll be.” Ros turned to leave the room. “You are no longer required to stay as Lord Baelish found you so inadequate.” Her voice was cold, almost disdainful.  
“It doesn’t matter now,” Myranda smiled wickedly. “I know exactly where I’m going.”  


End file.
